Choices
by Impure Perfection
Summary: Rage is a terrible thing. It can cause immense devastation. Rage is also a funny thing. It can create new options. And new options mean new decisions. The questions is, what are the answers to those new decisions? (Takes place in episode 14)


**Choices**

'Faster! Faster! Faster!' Kirito mentally urged himself as he continued his onslaught. Had he been facing anyone else, even a dungeon boss, they would have been hard pressed to avoid taking fatal levels of damage from his barrage. His swords were a blur even to him as he mentally ran through attack combo after attack combo chaining them together in flurry of passion, rage, and desperation. He had the strength, he had the speed, he the stamina. There was no way Heathcliff could block them all.

And yet, he was.

No matter how fast his attacks came Heathcliff was faster still. Not only was Heathcliff blocking nearly all of Kirito's attacks, but Heathcliff was also managing to get in his own strikes. Every one of them landed with deadly precision slowly chipping away at Kirito's health bar. Already his health was dropping beneath the green into the yellow. And that was slowly being eaten through.

How could this be happening? He had sworn he would beat this man and return them all to the real world. His oath to the general populous wasn't what weighed down upon his consciousness. It was his vow with his 'wife.' He had promised her he would get her back to the real world and find her there so that they could fall in love all over again. He had promised her he would free them both from this nightmare so they could return to the real world and carry on with their lives. He had promised her that no matter what he would save them both.

But now?

Now he was failing. Now he had the end within sights but was unable to grasp it. Now that the time had come to own up to those promises his actions were falling short.

Now his health was in the red.

'No!' Kirito raved internally as he ceased to use the system built attacks. They were known. They were old. They were slow.

And he needed speed.

Falling into an instinctual rage his body began to move faster. Faster than the system dictated his current speed level should allow. Faster than Heathcliff, no Kiyaba, could see. Faster than even Kirito's own eyes could track. But then, he didn't need to track his own body. His body was moving of its own accord as he settled into the rage. Let it course through him and become him until he was fury itself. His swords were no longer blurs but were mere phantasmal afterimages carving through digital space faster than the system's visual mechanics could calibrate the image of his swords.

And that was when the battle changed. It was no longer a battle of skill. It was a battle of attrition.

One Heathcliff had the upper hand in. His health had only just begun to drop into the yellow while Kirito's was well into the red.

Sighing at the change Heathcliff stopped worrying about blocking all of Kirito's attacks and instead focused on dealing as much damage as possible.

The raving juggernaut that was Kirito didn't notice, nor did he care. All he cared about was tearing the man before him in half. Pain, exhaustion, fear, doubt, caution, and sense were all swept aside by the waves of rage and desperation.

It was the beeping of his health bar that finally cut through his madness and forced him to take stock of the situation. And caused him to drop his guard.

In that instant Heathcliff surged forward, batted aside Kirito's swords with his shield, turning the black blade to a flurry of shimmering polygons, and swung his sword aiming to cleave the black swordsman in half.

Only, a white blur interposed itself between leader of the Knights Of The Blood Oath and Kirito the Beater.

The gut-wrenching sound of flesh being pierced by metal, beautifully orchestrated by the game system's audial mechanics and acoustic principals, echoed through the deafening silence.

"No way…" Kirito breathed in wide-eyed horror as he held Asuna in his arms. Heathcliff's musing of self-removal of paralysis were lost on the two. "Asuna, you… you…" The black swordsman muttered as his mind fought against the reality the game was presenting him with.

Asuna smiled softly even as tears formed in her eyes. "I'm sorry." The white flash of Aincard mumbled as the white glow shrouding her visage grew brighter. "Goodbye."

And then she was gone.

Her image exploded into a shimmering cloud of floating polygons.

The strongest player in all of Aincard clutched futilely at the fleeting polygons of his friend, his soul mate, his wife, his love. For all his strength, for all his skills, levels, and stats nothing he could do would put the polygons back together. Nothing would bring her back. Nothing. Nothing. She was gone. From here, and from the real world. He had failed.

**8888**

Heathcliff watched the boy sink to the floor as despair crippled his resolve. Sighing the creator of the game shook his head.

"Come, I will send you to her." He drawled out despondently. He had not wanted this. He had wanted the game to continue. He had wanted to explore this world. To wander the numerous dungeons he had created. To watch the world blossom and grow from what he had created into an entity of its own making. Yet, now he was forced to slay the two best players and ruin the hope of the rest of the clearers. No longer would they progress as quickly. No longer would they hope as brightly. No longer would they explore as brazenly. For why should they? They had seen their best beaten. What hope did they have?

With a final shake of his head Heathcliff steeled his resolve. He had designed the game and his role for himself. Now he had to play his part.

Hefting his sword he expected to deftly remove Kirito's head from his shoulders to quickly send the boy on his way to the next life.

He did _not_ expect the boy to lash out and cut clean through his sword.

**8888**

Kirito had thought he had felt rage before.

He was wrong.

What he had felt before was a mere mockery of that which he now felt.

Fear? Doubt? Caution? Exhaustion? What were they? What did they matter? What did his life matter? What did anyone's life matter? They were inconsequential. Life itself was inconsequential.

Now death, death was critical. Death was crucial. Death was the crucible upon which his every thought was hinged.

The death of Kiyaba.

The dead man walking said something.

Kirito didn't care.

The dead man swung his sword. He swung _that_ sword. The sword that had killed her.

Kirito cared.

That sword would never complete another swing.

Snapping back to his feet faster than his speed level should allow he swung his sword quicker than his dexterity level should permit. With more force than his strength stat would indicate he possessed his sword passed effortlessly through the blade.

The death of the sword, of _that_ sword, put a grin on Kirito's face.

"No." The swordsman of black ground out as he lashed out with his sword again and tore Heathcliff's shield to polygons. "Let me send _you_ to hell."

With a flick of his wrist Kirito severed Heathcliff's arms from his body before lunging forward and embedding his sword to the hilt in Heathcliff's chest.

Kirito watched with satisfaction as the man looked down at his chest in shock.

The satisfaction was short lived.

Only a moment later and the man vaporized into a shower of glimmering polygons leaving behind a new man.

The new man was a lean unassuming man dressed in brown pants, a blue shirt, and a white lab coat. The new man had slight stubble on his chin, unexpressive brown eyes, and brown hair. The new man was also examining Kirito's blade.

"Odd. I don't remember designing this sword with the stat's necessary to cut through Heathcliff's sword, much less his shield. The material for such a sword wouldn't become available until the eighty sixth floor."

With a snarl Kirito lunged at the man only for the man to disseminate Kirito's sword with a touch of his hand.

"Who are you?" Kirito demanded despite already knowing the answer. He had admired this man. He had studied this man. He had worshipped this man and read every word published by this man.

"Me? I'm Kiyaba. However, I have a question for you." Kiyaba turned his attention to the room and the gathering of players therein. "A question for all of you actually. Come." With a wave of his hand blue strands of light materialized around every player.  
"Wait a …" Kirito started to shout only to be cut off as the strands of light thickened until all he could see was whiteness. Instead of panicking he awaited the clearing of the whiteness. He had seen this before. Had seen it every time he had ever used a transport crystal. The only question was where he was being taken. When the whiteness did clear he narrowed his eyes. He should have expected this.

He was back on the Floor of Beginning, along with what he expected were all the remaining players of the game.

Snarling Kirito was about to begin hunting down the new dead man when a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"What do you wan…" Kirito started to demand from whatever irrelevant person had dared come between him and the new dead man.

It was a small hand, a thin and delicate hand. It was also a hand he knew full well could pack one heck of a punch. The arm attached to the hand was encased in a white sleeve with red trimming. The arm was attached to a feminine frame wreathed in layers of white and red. Resting on the hip of the frame was a crystal white rapier. Sitting atop the frame was a head full of honey-gold auburn hair. Framed by the head of hair was the face of his beloved.

The face of Asuna.

Kirito slowly turned as a breeze of hope swept away the heat of his rage.

Not daring to speak lest he ruin whatever miracle had brought her back Kirito could do nothing more than cup her face in his hands as tears leaked from his eyes. Slowly he moved closer until he pressed his forehead against hers. Then, and only then, did he speak.

"A-Asuna?" He questioned breathlessly.  
"It's me." Asuna replied as her mind finally caught up with the fact she was in fact not dead.

She had been staring at a void of blackness with a timer in front of her ticking down from ten. Then, right as the timer had clicked to zero, everything had gone white. And now she was standing before her teammate, husband, and partner.

Grinning Asuna pulled him closer to comfort him as much as to confirm that she was, in fact, still alive. "It's me. I'm here. I'm…"

The rest of her words were cut off as Kirito slammed his lips against hers.

She saw no problem reciprocating.

For a few precious moments the rest of the world faded away to nothingness as the two embraced one another allowing their souls to reunite. The game mechanics made no provisions in their equations for souls. It was an unfathomable variable that the game would never be able to calculate or account for. Yet, amidst the mass gathering of player IPs two souls found one another without a system assist. It was a blissful moment of pure nothingness.

And then it was interrupted.

"Eh-hem." A monotonous voice cut in causing the two to come up for air.

Turning to face the sound they saw the new Kiyaba standing beside them.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to continue." Was all the man said before turning to move to the front of the crowd.

"Wait!" Kirito called as he moved forward and caught the man by his sleeve. "How? How did you bring her back?"

The man merely quirked his eyebrow.

"Hmmm? I designed an item that can return a player to life if used within ten seconds. The time between her death and your defeat of Heathcliff was nine point three seconds. Do you think I can't imitate the effects of one of my own items?"

"No, it's just. I, I thought she was gone." Kirito paused and turned away from Asuna to fully face the man before bowing. "Thank you. Thank you for bringing her back."

Instead of responding Kiyaba just grunted before continuing on.

**8888**

By now the crowd was in an uproar at the change of events. People everywhere where damning the man to all sorts of unsavory fates as he ascending the stage that had appeared at the front of the central plaza. Kiyaba ignored them all. Despite the insults, the threats, the hate they spewed at them he simply faced them with a look of bland amusement. When finally the audience had vented their rage and quieted down he spoke.

"Good evening my fellow players. As you have all guess I am Kiyaba, and I would all like to congratulate you on surviving to this point." Another roar of rage interrupted him and he had to wait until they had quited down once again. "Because, as of now the game has been completed." Not a single insult was thrown. Dead silence reigned supreme over the gathered crowd as it began to sink in what this could mean for them. "A player by the name of Kirito has managed to defeat my avatar Heathcliff and has thus completed the game. You will all be free to depart and return to the real world in a moment. However, first I have a question for you. As the designer and creator of this game, no, this world, I want to know something. Did you enjoy the game?"

No shouts of rage came.

No cries of woe and regret were to be heard.

No demands for justice were made.

No sobs sounded.

Silence, it seemed, was the unanimous answer to the question.

"Alright," Kiyaba continued when no one was willing to vocalize their thoughts. "Since you seem unable to answer, I will give you an alternative. I offer you this choice. You may either return to the other world, or you may stay here. If you decide to leave, you will leave behind you all your memories of this world. If you decide to stay, you will stay here for good and embrace this as your world. So, choose whether to leave or to stay. This will be how I determine your satisfaction with the game. And remember, it is an individual choice."

With a wave of his hand strands of white light began to appear around everyone in the plaza cutting them off from this world, and from one another.

Now the only question was, how many would return and how many would leave?


End file.
